


Uncertain Stability

by tinycarnivoroussheep (notleia)



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: But mostly fluff, Elsewhere Fic, F/M, start off with angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notleia/pseuds/tinycarnivoroussheep
Summary: Two lovers from opposing sides of the Free Planets Alliance and the Empire need to make choices and live with the consequences.More specific summary: Fluff with only 35% of a plot.
Relationships: OC/OC
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *All my knowledge of military ranks is pulled from MASH reruns, Wiki, and also my butt. There are inaccuracies.
> 
> *So this takes place in the same universe as Legend of Galactic Heroes, but with none of the characters because I don't trust myself to write good fic about them. These are new randos in new rando circumstances.

They brought her into an interrogation room. She only relaxed a little when Doktor Kirch came in. The Imperials used truth serums, didn't they? Though what fucken secret intel they thought she had, she couldn't figure.

"Sergeant Demir, you are pregnant."

She didn't know that word. They both referred to the translating compad.

"Bullshit." She brought her hand up to her mouth unconsciously, but the cuff jerked it short. She corrected, "Impossible. It's not just a stomach bug?"

"All the tests--"

But she wasn't listening, but visibly counting on her fingers with widened eyes. She went pale. "Shit. Goddammit. Shit fuck goddamm fucking--"

The doctor waited.

"My implant expired six months ago," she finally said.

"Implant?"

"Birth control implant."

If she had been hiding it on purpose, she was a good actress.

"I haven't had a regular period in years." She was in shock, and she seemed to realize it. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.

He tried to sound very gentle. "Do you know the father? Is he a Rebel?"

She didn't answer.

"The fetus is three months. You were taken at the Battle of Alviss."

She made a small move to touch her belly. It was sentimental, but the gesture touched him and he didn't feel like drawing this out further.

"Is the father one of your guards? Is it Kommandant Alban Seikert? We need to know to pursue a court martial. We can take a genetic sample, but I don't have the equipment here."

There was an abrupt knock a bare second before the door was forcefully opened.

"How do you know it isn't a Rebel?" demanded Flottillenadmiral Reier. "What are you doing, playing detective? Just take the sample and present the test results to the military police."

"Three months is too dangerous," Doctor Kirch retorted. "That child is likely a subject of His Imperial Majesty. I have a responsibility to ALL of them."

"Then what's the point of your pretty little drama? If Seikert is responsible -- stay the fuck out, Seikert!" He seemed to regret his swearing as soon as it left his mouth, but he still pushed the man at the doorway back.

"If that IS my child--"

Reier's anger surged back, "Are you admitting it?"

Doctor Kirch turned back to the girl. This was his first pregnancy, a meaningful change from his usual cases, and he did feel protective because of that.

"Was it rape?" he asked gently. Reier had all but slammed the door shut in Seikert's face, and he was a little glad of it.

She still didn't look at him, but said deliberately in Imperial, "It was not."

Reier looked at her over his shoulder. "He won't marry you, you know."

She read the translation and shook her head. "I don't expect him to. Even if he is the younger son, I doubt his family of nobles would allow it."

"So you know he is a noble's younger son?" Kirch said.

Reier studied her a moment, though she didn't meet his gaze. "If she claims it was not rape--" Reier shook his head. "I'm still cutting his pay."

"In the interest of justice, take that and put it in trust for the child," the Doctor said. "Even if it grows up in an orphanage, it should have some consideration."

"The hell it's going to an orphanage," she said abruptly. "MY child is a citizen of the Free Planet Alliance. MY child will be repatriated."

Doctor Kirch shook his head. "Think of the child. How will you care for it in an internment camp? A child that is an Imperial subject will be provided for. There are also many who would adopt. It is better this way."

If possible, she went paler.

Reier opened the door to leave, and Seikert was still standing there. "I will marry her."

"Ridiculous."

"I'll marry her. Put her under surveillance, but I won't abandon my child."

"Is it yours?" Reier almost sneered.

Seikert looked past him. "Anika? Is it mine?"

She looked up, spoke in Imperial, "It is." She looked to the Doctor but had to revert to Standard. "Do the tests. It's his."

"I made a mistake," Seikert said to the room, "but my child won't suffer for it."


	2. Chapter 2

"No offense, but you're a goddamn stupid cunt," Cussler pronounced.

"I can't really argue with that." Demir still had both hands on her gut, as if trying to figure out where the fetus was.

"Okay, maybe I would've tapped that ass, but how did you forget when your implant expired?" Hemlock demanded.

"I got the ten-year one so I wouldn't have to think about it!"

"They aren't going to abort it?" Cussler said.

"You know them," Demir said, "Kinder, Kueche, und Kirche. They're goddamn sexist, but maybe I can get a good deal out of it if they're romanticizing shit."

Cussler and Hemlock thought about it.

"Is it really worth it?" Hemlock asked.

"I'll take one for the team and kick the shit out of you till it falls out, if you want," Cussler said. "It'll make me feel better, too."

"...I DO want kids. Maybe not like this, but I don't WANT to abort it. Maybe I'm just a romantic shit, too."

Hemlock cut Cussler off with a gesture. "It's still fucken crazy. Marrying that ass means you'll be considered a traitor. You won't ever get to see Free space again. Don't you have parents and siblings and shit?"

"Look, I have to think about the kid. Are they even gonna let me keep it?"

"If they didn't, still could turn out okay."

"Fucken likely. The kid's going to be at least half of not-Euro as I am, and it'll be hard to think any of the white fuckwad families they'd ship it out to would be nice about it."

There was a pause. Hemlock paced. "Look, I can't do fuck all of anything, but I don't like it."

"They're gonna put me in medical solitary. Maybe they'll ship me off to a civvie facility." Demir fought back tears. "I don't want to do this alone."

Cussler softened and hugged her. "This is all bullshit," she said without heat or blame.


	3. Chapter 3

December 15, 796 UC

Anika Demir to Demir Family, Uphorsen System, Free Planet Alliance

Guys, I'm sorry, I screwed up. I got captured by the enemy, but then I was stuck in an escape pod alone with a hot enemy officer for a week like in a cheesy romance subplot. I thought I'd just get a Auntie Thor type story to scandalize the niblings with, but my implant expired and I'm expecting. The thing is, the dumbass wants to marry me. And worse, I'm gonna do it. For the kid's sake. I don't want it taken away from me.

I'm sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

Seikert had already been transferred planetside, but the doctor had included Admiral Reier when forwarding the results of the paternity report. He didn't know why he felt compelled to see her again, but once he had free time, he took a shuttle downwell. And while he had remained in uniform, he recognized High Admiral Kircheis in casual clothes in the hallways. He saluted.

"No," Kircheis waved it off. "I came incognito."

"Do you mean to interrogate her yourself, sir?"

He shook his head. "I doubt I could do better than Intelligence has. I only wanted to see her. Don't call me 'sir' in front of her." He included the guardsmen station at her door in the last.

She was retching in a biohazard bag when they came in. They froze at the door.

"Excuse me," she said in accented Imperial. "Please come in." She alarmed them a little by rising from the bed.

"Should I call a nurse?" Reier asked.

"No, no."

She disposed of the biohazard bag and began clearing clothes from two folding chairs and onto a cot in the corner of the room. They were Imperial military uniforms. A spare pair of boots were leaning against a cot leg. Reier glanced at Kircheis, who had also noticed.

She was taller than he remembered. Dressed in men's patient's clothes too large for her, she didn't look very pregnant.

She sat on the bed and handed Reier an infopad with a translation program ready. "Now, what can I do for you? Admiral, right?" She tapped her neck, pointing to nonexistent insignia.

"Yes, I'm an admiral." Reier presumed to take the lead. "The paternity tests came in. Seikert is the father."

She nodded, unruffled. "Of course. What now?"

Reier was at a loss, but Kircheis, better prepared, presented her with a different infopad. "You will need to be registered as an Imperial citizen before the marriage license can be processed."

"And the dependency paperwork?" she asked. "He told me he submitted it last week."

"Once your Imperial credentials are processed, it should be simple," Kircheis said.

Her acrid tone caught his attention before the translation. "So they were waiting for the paternity tests."

"This IS unprecedented," Kircheis said apologetically. 

"Do the Rebels have birthing facilities within their system?" Reier asked, almost accusing.

"Of course not. But there is established procedure for outsourcing to civilian facilities and ways to anticipate the paperwork. I would already have a dependent provision for the kid in the Alliance. I suppose it's more convenient to simply not have women in the military."

She saw Reier's barely suppressed disapproval, her golden-brown eyes amused. "There are, in fact, very specific rules for 'fraternization,'" she used the Imperial word. "I wonder what ridiculous things you Imperials think happen onboard an Alliance ship with women. Group sex in the mess hall?"

Kircheis's ears turned red.

The glint in the corners of her eyes and teeth turned a little carnivorous. "Mixed-gender showers? Girls topping girls in the barracks?"

He flushed down past his collar, eyes frozen aside.

She caught herself and sighed. "Excuse me, it's too easy to tease you cadet school graduates."

Reier gained a new and unexpected notion of how the escape-pod seduction had taken place.

She allowed Kircheis the space to recover by asking specific questions about the citizenship paperwork, and Reier's attention wandered to the rolling table. There was a mess of paper filled with sketches, nearly all of them of medical machinery in the room, but also one of a vase of flowers.

Kircheis demurred, "There's no rush for this."

She tilted her head. "You came in civilians. On your day off, I think? I'm sorry for it."

"It was a convenient coincidence."

There wasn't much pretense left for staying afterward, and Reier left with misgivings.

"You don't like her?" Kircheis asked.

"Does it matter, sir? Seikert likes her, if he's staying here. Or at least he hasn't tired of her yet."

Kircheis frowned a little, but he was young enough to still be sentimental. Especially if women could still make him blush as red as his hair


	5. Chapter 5

Anika was wrist-deep in the coffee machine when Alban came into the officer's mess.

"Good timing. I've dropped a screwdriver and three screws under the table."

He retrieved them and put a pamphlet onto the table next to them. "Look this over and tell me which one you like."

She picked it up, frowned. "Wedding rings? Is it even worth the expense?"

He gave her an odd look. "Do they not use rings in the Alliance?" He made an effort to not refer to them as the Rebels, and she did appreciate it.

"It's pretty common, but it's also completely fucking bourgeois."

Looking lost, he reached for the translator.

"Conspicuous consumption? Status symbols? Have they banned whatshisface over here? Veblen?"

"Oh." He'd gained an inkling of what she meant but remained overall baffled. "Every respectable married woman has a wedding ring."

She mulled that over, then dropped her head into her hands. "I need all the help I can get in looking respectable."

He suppressed a laugh. "Oh, I ought to give you my banking information. Respectable wives manage the household expenses, too."

"Ugh, my bank account back home is probably forfeit to the state. And I had combat backpay coming, too. Goddammit." She looked over the infopad. "There are a lot of numbers, at least. I don't have a frame of reference for kroner."

"I haven't had much reason to spend my pay. I live in assigned quarters, and I don't attend society events, and even if I did, a formal uniform is perfectly respectable. I haven't ridden to the hunt in years. My sister had an endowment when she married," he added.

"I doubt we'll be endowed with much of anything. Have they replied to your letter yet?"

The look he gave spoke a few strained volumes.

She touched his arm. "Well, even if they cut you off, a mechanic can always find work. Though I may not be able to keep you in the style in which you're accustomed. No more thoroughbred hunters, I'm afraid, but maybe I can find the budget for an old ranch horse. I'd actually know how to ride one of those."


	6. Chapter 6

About twelve hours after Paul Lothar von Seikert came into the world, transfer orders came in for Alban Seikert to go to Planet Odin, because of course they fucking did. Although he had to leave his wife and child behind, he was able to secure a house within the two months she had given as a timeframe after which she was comfortable taking the baby off-planet.

Though the actual moving was largely uneventful, as she hadn't amassed much by way of personal property within her year-ish of Imperial residency. She had a few odds and ends of Alban's personal collection of computerware, some sketch pads, a pencil case, some clothing, and a basic and mismatched toolset that met her personal requirements, mostly because it felt weird not to have one handy. 

She adjusted the shoulder strap on the baby wrap that kept Paul bound to her chest while she gazed up at the two-story detached. Alban gave her a kiss, grabbed her bags from the taxi, and preceded her up the walkway. "I'm glad it came furnished. Have you done anything about finding housemates yet?"

He whipped his head around in surprise, leaving the front door to gape open. "Housemates?"

"The hell do we need with this big of a house?" She gestured him to go inside and followed. She scanned the parlor, noting the piano with fancy wood inlay. "How many bedrooms?"

"Well, I wanted you to have our own bedroom if you wanted it, then the nursery and the au pair's room, and one guest bedroom seemed reasonable enough."

"Five bedrooms? Au pair?"

"I thought you'd want to make the staff appointments yourself." He continued up the stairs.

She sighed, muttered to the baby but mostly to herself. "I swear to hell your father is so fucking bourgeois." The stair railing had some pretty nice carving. Louder, she said, "I don't see that I need my own room. We shared that dingy hospital room well enough, right?"

"I wanted you to have the choice."

There were still dirty uniforms thrown on the floor and clean ones draped over two different sitting chairs. There were two different infopads on his bedside table.

"I guess that depends on whether you mind having the baby in the room. I'll be feeding throughout the night for awhile yet. Speaking of--" The baby was making indistinct sounds. She adjusted the baby sling and her clothing, got the baby latched. Only afterward did she pull out a cover from her baggage and drape it over her shoulder.

"He's a very quiet baby. It's kinda scary. At first there were some times I was afraid he'd stopped breathing. He's not much like his cousins. Javed was a talker. Mina, too. Bushra apparently liked screaming for any and all reasons."

"I thought none of your siblings had children yet?" He came up from behind and embraced her, nuzzling her hair.

"Oh, these would be my cousins' children. This one's second cousins, I think. Kishor and Alanna stayed with us a little that year, when Javed was born. Some form of communal family living is pretty normal on Uphorsen. It IS a total backwater, though. Maybe I'm just too unsophisticated for Odin's standard of living."

"It's not unusual to have female relative stay with a new mother," Alban said. "Though my mother..."

"No, that's okay." She dabbed at her suddenly wet eyes.

He kissed her temple.

"It is weird not to have Auntie Thor around," she said, trying distract herself with a lighter tone. "She has a weakness for newborns."

"Why Thor? You never did explain."

"Oh, her name is Theodora, after one of Great-Gran's best friends who died in an accident. She's always been Thor for short. If you'd ever met her, it would make sense. Y'know, an au pair would make sense. I forget that what people who don't have an Auntie Thor do."

The doorbell rang.

"Neighborly snoops already?"

"Be nice, now," he chided. "You're the second ranking officer's wife among the Intelligence education staff."

"Shit."

"Watch your language in front of the children, liebchen."


	7. Chapter 7

Rosa Metger was a naturally occurring caretaker and mother hen, and Anika was lucky to have found her so quickly. Perfectly soft mannered and respectable and also a genuinely nice person. Also it was convenient that she was a mere sergeant's wife and therefore not even more threatening to the cabal of jostling lieutenants' wives who were already ruffled by the arrival of a commander's wife to disrupt the quiet power struggle under the perceived calm of a retired admiral's wife. Especially one that mostly wore men's scrubs, still.

So Rosa was so very kindly escorting her to the shops to purchase food for the empty cabinetry (Alban had been eating at mess the last two months) and a wardrobe fit for public. She brought along her two children, four-year-old Iris and 22-month-old Fritz who had to be leashed to his mother or strapped to the wagonette so that he didn't make a beeline for the nearest hard barrier to fall against or from.

Rosa seemed to be under the impression that Anika was quiet because she was shy, and the decisive Anika that showed up now that there were objectives to accomplish seemed to disconcert her. For the last several years, Anika's contexts had been between her impersonal drone work entity and the sarcastic fucks she usually made friends with. She was erring on the side of impersonal drone, which made Rosa apologize unnecessarily. Fortunately, baby Paul was a conversational safety net, because she could always punt to how Paul was similar or different to Iris or Fritz.

Though Rosa was flustered again when the subject edged on money, in regards to au pairs and their expenses. It was probably very daring of her to ask if Anika planned to hire a cook.

"I can cook, but not well. Or I have cooked, in the past. But why pay someone to cook when I can...[muddle along]?" She leaned the infopad over so that Rosa could read the translation.

Some undefined tension in Rosa's air suddenly disaapeared. "The right girl as an au pair could cook for you, sometimes," Rosa pointed out. "I had my sister with me, when Iris was born, but that was before Henrik was stationed to Odin. Right now I only have a girl to come in to clean two days a week."

Anika genuinely could not tell if she was flexing or admitting poverty but gave her the benefit of the doubt.

When it was time to try on ready-made clothes, it surprised her that handing over Paul to Rosa was like tearing out a kidney. She knew she had no rational reason to worry when Rosa hefted him expertly onto a soft mom-shoulder while handing snacks to her own children, but there was some hollow feeling in not having Paul strapped to her chest and also not wiggling in the corner of her vision. She'd been bathing with Paul in his pack box-cum-bassinet beside the tub, which is where he slept at night, perched at sleeping-eye-level on the chaise lounge in the bedroom.

In the end, she didn't care for a great many items of middle-class Imperial fashion, so Rosa also took her to a tailor's shop. It was much less a painful experience than Anika anticipated, because the proprietress was an elegant professional who discerned her tastes and preferences within ten minutes. She was intrigued rather than offended by Anika's references to Uphorsen styles, so Anika felt bold enough to order some more familiar things and also seven meters of unsewn cloth.

So Alban came home to find her dressed in a sari. "Very charming." He had a certain look in his eye as he touched the skin at her waist exposed by her shirt riding up.

She had satisfaction in that and also that his fingers didn't hesitate over a stretch mark. "I feel surprisingly domestic. But that might be a problem."

He did pause then. "Oh?"

"I might be turning into one of those clingly mothers like my cousin-in-law who couldn't let someone else hold her baby without hovering over them. And I hate that." She described what happened at the clothes shop. "I'm only happy I didn't take it out on Rosa. I should have you wear the baby sometimes, anyway. And learn to change a diaper. By the way, do you know Henrik Metger at all?"

"Only in passing. He's a combat instructor: we don't have many students in common."

They sat down to eat in what would be the servants' dining and commmon room by the kitchen rather than the formal dining room.

"I ask because I'm thinking it might be a good idea to ask the Metgers move in as housemates. If they don't see that as completely barbaric. I'd feel better having more than one income to support household expenses, and I've kinda given up on finding mechanic work here on Odin. Too much competition for some shocking foreign woman to gain a clientele."

"I believe I can continue to forgo the ranch horse. It still surprises me how anxious you are over money."

She mulled that over. "Some of it is sheer habit. But some of it is because we're enormously lucky you weren't court-martialed anyway, and I haven't gotten over my feelings on that. If you were separated, what sort of living could you make without relying on your family?" She added, "I don't doubt for a second that they'd use it as leverage over us."

"You're right about that, of course." He rested his fork on his plate while in thought. "I stopped using 'von' in my name while I was still a cadet, but I suppose I've never given much thought to how [nobles without garters] live."

"I don't mean to make you anxious, too, but it feels better to not be the only one thinking on it. I'll find a way to broach the topic with Rosa. It may not go anywhere. I should begin looking for an au pair anyway."

That night, she also showed him how to take off the sari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I'm still too chickenshit to write a sex scene.


	8. Chapter 8

Anika answered the door but stood frozen so long that Alban stood to see what was wrong. "Liebchen?"

She started and let the person inside, while trying to minimize a sudden rush of feelings.

The unexpected guest dropped her bags and gave her a hug, and Anika's tears leaked out onto her shoulder.

Alban stepped forward, shocked and somewhat suspicious. "Liebchen?"

The strange woman released Anika into his keeping but sidestepped him while he was distracted to make for the couch, where the baby had been chewing something under his supervision. "You--" he began sternly, but Anika laid a hand on his arm.

"It's Auntie Thor."

It took him a moment to remember who Auntie Thor was, and to make the connection to the woman with dark skin and mannishly short, salt-and-pepper hair now completely absorbed in the baby.

"Auntie," she said louder.

She turned and pierced Alban with stone gray eyes. She looked down at the baby again, softening, but flattened when she looked back at him.

"I have many feelings about you," she said in accented but intelligible Imperial, "but most of them are not your fault."

He started to say a few unintelligble things, one of which being, "How?"

But Auntie had turned back to Anika and reverted to a form of Standard with many, many more colloquialism than he was accustomed to, even from Anika.

"Child, I'm going to bomb you with my feelings, and you probably don't deserve it, either, but here it is. You stupid potato, why didn't you repatriate?" She looked down at the baby. "But I can understand why you didn't. It can't have been easy. But you absolute software failure, you greening shit, why did you get pregnant? Do you know what you did to your mother? Yes you do. How could this carpet beater of a boy be worth it? But there was a fucking goddamn POW exchange two seasons after the retreat! But you were already in your quickening, weren't you?" She sighed, bounced the baby, "Introduce me."

Anika leaned into him. "A boy, Paul. This is Alban."

"Seikert, or Von Seikert, yes."

"But, Auntie Thor, how?"

"Yes, yes, sit down." She retained the baby on her lap while sitting on the chair opposite to the couch they reoccupied. "You remember I spent time in Fezzan? I know people who know people, and I hired a private investigator to find you." She watched the gears grinding in overdrive behind the boy's paling face. "He was once an Imperial intelligence officer. So," she said authoritatively, "what you'll do is report me to your superiors like a good little automaton. I expect they're already watching your house in the first place. So go now and make your report. Promptness is proper [military discipline]." She used the Imperial word. "I expect I'll be interrogated, but I'm a harmless old woman too sentimental to have the good sense to stay the fuck out of an autocracy."

While Thor and Alban were ordered to report into the Ministry of Intelligence, Anika was in a waiting room just slightly more enclosed than an alcove with Paul. Thor was even more hesitant than Alban to allow her to accompany them, but in the she let her do what she wanted, muttering something about guilt trips as a last ditch. It seemed to be a good indicator that they had assigned a baby private to watch over her from a sort of secretary's cubby. There was a rotating stock of other personnel waiting between meetings or just ducking out of the hallway for a gossip. And there was more than a few who sidled up to her in nonthreatening friendliness to garner something to gossip about elsewhere. She was perfectly willing to spill the beans with some sentimental embellishments. She found it privately embarrassing how easy it was to become misty-eyed. Maybe it wasn't only for affect.

Auntie Thor did, after all, forfeit her entire life in the Alliance in order to be with her. Even her legendary itchy feet weren't enough to just handwave it away. Dammit, she was feeling guilty about it, no matter what Thor had said.

It had been four hours, and she couldn't quell all her worry. Her latest uniformed companion in the waiting room was at least leaving her alone, not even staring at her out of the corner of his eye while he sat two seats over. He had the bridge of his nose pinched while his elbow rested on his knee. It must have been a bitch of a headache, he sat there in the same position for ten full minutes.

The most exciting thing that happened was that the baby spit up on himself.

"Paul, you vomit potato."

Even if she had gotten into the habit of saying it in Imperial, she still wasn't in the habit of remembering that that the teasing endearment of the phrase didn't translate. Her neighbor jerked up and glared at her. "I beg your pardon?"

It still took her a moment, but luckily he noticed the baby on her other side, trailing milky spit. "Are you also Paul?" she asked.

"Ah, yes." He was very clearly trying to rein himself back from whatever rude reaction had boiled to the surface. Something deep in his eyes flickered, and he flinched away from the light.

She dug into her burgeoning mom-bag at her feet and held out a vial of liquid painkiller. "I don't know if this would help if it's your hardware and not your nerves, but please."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but made no move to take it. 

She set it on one of the chairs between them. "I'm not sensitive to the sight of implants, if you need to take them out for adjusting."

After a few minutes, while she wiped up the baby, he did remove his left one. Anika dipped her hand in her bag and came out with a miniature computer toolkit.

Hesitating again, he did finally accept a probe. He made the adjustment and replaced that eye, removed the other. 

She offered him a tissue for the surrogate fluid leaking out of his tear ducts. By then he'd become less prickly about accepting her help. He also took the painkiller.

His hand still rested on his forehead, but he seemed far less tense. After a few minutes, he rose. "Danke."

"Bitte, Paul."

He gave the barest start at being addressed so familiarly, but while he didn't smile back, he didn't seem offended. He nodded and left.

Two more hours later, Alban came out.

"She'll be out soon, they're registering her." He seemed to be ready to say something else, but paused.

"Hmm?"

"Has your aunt been interrogated before?"

"Um," she tensed, uncertain. "She's been detained by police over protesting before. What did she do?"

"They had me watching from the observation room." To watch him just as much as her. "She flooded them. She was telling them how she'd met her contacts in Fezzan twenty-five years ago. And she's had a Fezzanese bank account under an alias for ten years. She paid Imperial taxes on it. She provided the forms. She slept with her private investigator," he added as a pained afterthought.

She bit her lip. "Well, that sounds like Auntie Thor. All of it. Will they detain her?"

"I'm thinking they'll keep her under surveillance."

"Like me?"

He paused, but didn't contradict her.

But Thor did emerge from the hallways, and they were able to go home together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been wanting to write some fluff to rehabilitate Oberstein, but I have even fewer ideas for a plot about than that I do farting around with this. This is what I've got.
> 
> Update: Okay, I thought I had more ideas for this fic, but that turns out not to be true. I'm gonna put my efforts into different directions.


End file.
